


in the den

by prowlish



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Fluff, Fun, Gift Fic, Kissing, M/M, Restraints, uh... sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-19
Updated: 2017-01-19
Packaged: 2018-09-18 12:11:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9384500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prowlish/pseuds/prowlish
Summary: It takes two to tango.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is a late bday present for my lovely Gil <3
> 
> It's also dedicated to Elias who gave me the idea in the first place (and who also had a bday recently so? shared bleated bday present??)
> 
> Special thanks to Ky for giving me specific ideas based off [my silly uncaffeinated comic reading adventures on twitter](https://twitter.com/decepticats/status/821369949000187904), and for proofreading. -w-

Drift had nearly forgotten what it felt like to follow around at Rodimus’ whim; he was enjoying the fact that smiles and fun were still easy with them. Having survived the DJD helped with the giddiness, naturally. Ratchet was still finishing up a lot of repairs with Velocity’s help, so he was more than happy to tag along to wherever with Rodimus.

 

He even followed the mech straight into the teleport “den” mostly without question. “Checking the coordinates” didn’t even seem strange to him until he was crawling in there and realized he wasn’t seeing any control panels to check _anything_ with. He snorted softly, the sound drawing a look backwards from Rodimus.

 

“What?” he said, a grin creeping onto his features.

 

Drift narrowed his optics but he could feel the smile spreading infectiously across his own lips. “There’s no control panel in here.”

 

Rodimus hummed as he wiggled around to turn and face Drift. “Yeah… so?”

 

Drift snorted again. “So, how are we checking any coordinates, then?”

 

“I _am_ checking coordinates!”

 

Drift quirked an optic ridge. “Oh?”

 

“Yes,” He said, leaning back on his palms. “I notice that yours are very close to mine.”

 

The swordsmech laughed and leaned closer. “Wouldn’t they be considered the same right now?”

 

Rodimus pouted ever so slightly. “Not entirely.” He glanced over Drift’s frame. “Anyway, I have a better question.”

 

“What’s that?”

 

“What are you planning to do with that sword?”

 

Drift blinked and looked down, spying his greatsword still clutched in his hand.

 

Inexplicably, his features flushed, and he frowned up at Rodimus. “It sits the other way on my back now, I had to take it off to get in here.”

 

But Rodimus was still grinning, and the single, “Oh,” he uttered was colored with represed laughter.

 

“Rodimus…”

 

“What?” he said for the second time -- but it was too much. He burst into laughter and Drift lunged forward, biting his own laughter away and quite effectively pinning down Rodimus’s wrists above his helm with the broad part of his greatsword. It required holding it at a tilted angle so it didn’t jam into the sides of the den, but Rodimus didn’t seem to mind, judging by the upthrottle of his engine.

 

Drift was now grinning, hovering inches above Rodimus’s face, his legs sliding against the now dark-painted plating as he shifted his weight to straddle his frame and showing off the sharp points of his fangs.

 

Rodimus licked his lips, tilting his chin back in a cheeky look. “Careful or you’ll be redoing my paint again,” he teased.

 

Drift chuckled. “Will I?” he said. He purposefully let their plating brush together again, drinking in the pleasureable tremor that ran through Rodimus’s frame. “I thought you wanted our coordinates to get closer together?”

 

Rodimus squirmed beneath Drift, pushing half-sparkedly at the sword pinning his wrists and mostly accomplishing grinding their plating together again. “Those were your words…”

 

“And this was your idea.”

 

The captain tilted his head again. “But _this_ was all your idea,” he purred, arching his frame into Drift’s.

 

Drift shook his helm; bantering with Rodimus was getting nowhere, but he had other ideas. He leaned down, capturing Rodimus’s lips in another kiss, gentle and teasing. He’d missed this too, playfulness with Rodimus, being close, and everything just feeling right.

 

Playfulness quickly gave way to passion, however. Rodimus let out a soft rumble from his engine, pushing into their kiss eagerly, and Drift was quick to meet him with hunger. Shivers rattled his own plating, his fingers flexing in their grip on the greatsword, keeping Rodimus pinned no matter his not-serious struggles or squirming in pleasure.

 

Optics flaring, Drift kissed down Rodimus’s jaw, enjoying the mech’s little gasps, his frame and field pushing out, reaching for more. Drift so wanted to give it.

 

He nipped at Rodimus’s neck cables, _really_ enjoying the full-body shudder it earned him, and rolled his field against his captain’s, vents panting as he gently kissed and nibbled at Rodimus’s neck. He only every so often played harder with his fangs.

 

Rodimus’s movements, his breathy sounds, and the very open and clear pleasure flowing through his EM field… all of it was more than enough of a return for Rodimus leading him around all over the place.

 

Well. Not that he cared about that to begin with, but this was even better.

 

He was very close to perhaps getting them into _more_ trouble, but then he heard… Suddenly alert, Drift pulled away, dragging his greatsword with him -- but his focus wasn’t on Rodimus’s disoriented blink or his own disappointment at leaving the hot flush of their frames pressed together.

 

Someone was outside.

 

And once it was ascertained there was no threat, Drift found it surprisingly easy to say with a straight face: “Rodimus and I were checking the coordinates…”

 


End file.
